Every once in a while, you come across a blogger/writer that has an amazing, unique story to tell. Lady Jennie does, for sure. She writes at A Lady In France, and is working on her memoir, Life In The Trenches, publishing it in chapters on her blog in hopes of sharing her incredible life story and publishing it in novel form when it’s finished. Start at the beginning to read her story of love, faith, family, and adventure, through America, Africa, and France. You can also find gluten free recipes and her views on life and religion (even if they aren’t always popular) on her blog.
I’ve come to call Lady Jennie my friend, and I’m so glad that she’s sharing with you all here today.
The Double-Edged Sword
A Lady in France
I’ve always seen myself as the type of person who is filled with plenty of hope, but zero expectation. After all, expectation requires something more than hope – it requires faith. And though I have faith regarding all sorts of things, it doesn’t seem to extend to the domain of expectation.
Let me give you an example. When it was time to enroll in a 401k plan at work, I only joined for the principal of the thing – not because I actually thought I would live long enough to enjoy my retirement. There was nothing in my stunted expectations about the blessings to come that could have been defined as “great.”
But hopes! Oh, those I’ve had from my earliest childhood. Great hopes.
I hoped that I would be given a prince of a husband, and that our marriage would be filled with love and humor. I hoped that I would have a large, healthy family, with perhaps two biological and two adopted children. And I hoped that my words and actions would make a difference in the world, so that my life and death would not be in vain.
In many ways, my hopes were all realized, and sometimes as literally as a dream come true. When I was eighteen, my dream of marrying a French man, set me off to study in Avignon in hopes of meeting him. When the semester was over, I forgot about the dream (except for a three-year hiccup with a French man who would not have done for me at all), only to stumble into the arms of a man who wanted to marry me … one who happened to be French.
But I didn’t expect to be living in glamorous France as an overweight, middle-aged mom, so that my children’s classmates make fun of me, and I have trouble finding clothes outside of the supermarket. (I’m a size sixteen to eighteen). No, I expected that I would be as elegant as the dream evoked – the tight jean, tiny Gucci belt-wearing maman with strappy black sandals and hair pulled back in a loose chignon. (My hair came out after my babies did).
I didn’t expect that I’d still be on anti-depressants after all these years. I didn’t expect that I’d be unable to drink all the fine wines because of a past drinking problem, or that I’d have to forego the delicious croissants, pastries and baguettes because of a gluten intolerance. I hoped for the prince of a husband and I got him.
I hoped for the French dream and I got it as well. But in return, I was handed much I didn’t expect.
My hopes of having a large family were also realized as I gave birth to a beautiful daughter – a confident, talented, athletic girl whose thought process reminds me of my own girlhood. And my middle son, the spitting image of his handsome father with his gorgeous blue eyes, has inherited his dad’s meticulous attention to detail instead of my continual state of distracted overwhelm.
Even my youngest son, who I felt so guilty for having instead of adopting because I was afraid of overpopulating the world, has proven to be Affection Incarnate. At four years of age he already knows how to make the ladies swoon, taking my face tenderly in his chubby hands, as he looks me in the eyes and says, “T’es belle maman,” before leaning over to kiss me.
I had already been given my large, happy family. So I didn’t expect to have a surprise fourth pregnancy, one I would have felt too guilty to plan, but which I embraced as a blessing from heaven – only to find myself on my hands and knees in the shower at three o’clock in the morning, the entire room turning white as I stared at the mass of blood, the little head and spinal cord, the tiny legs and arms in their restful fetus position, and the small eyes that would never open. I didn’t expect that.
I’ve come to realize that expectation is a double-edged sword. On one hand, expectation can come as a demand, like, “Okay God – I expect you to give me this. I deserve it. Why shouldn’t I have it?”
I’ve never been very good at that kind of expectation. I’m more the type of person who will say that about sorrow. “It must happen to someone, so why shouldn’t it happen to me?” As far as blessings go, the most expectation I can summon is something meager, along the lines of, “God, I would really like this thing to come my way, but only if you think it best.”
Maybe in a way, I’m afraid to expect things because I will only set myself up for disappointment. I don’t know – that seems like a cheap way out. It kind of says to me that God is not good and he doesn’t know how to give good gifts so I better not shoot for the stars. But if I’m going to have faith in God at all, that is definitely not the kind of faith I want to have – a wimpy, half-hearted, “I’ll bury my talent in the ground” type of faith.
On the flip side, expectation can also come in the form of assumption. I might think I’ve submitted to the overall “better plan, grand scheme of things,” only to realize I have a very precise expectation about the conditions that surround the blessings I’m given. Like woah – I said I wanted this, but I totally thought I would get the whole package to go along with it. You know, like the classy French-looking woman to go along with the dream French husband, or the four perfect pregnancies to go along with the big happy family ideal.
To expect is to climb another rung up the ladder of hope because you believe you are actually going somewhere. To expect is to still hang on to that ladder with one hand, when life steps on your other one, crushing a part of your dream and tossing it to the ground.
Expectation is a double-edged sword that would be better served in pushing me to believe, and even demand, while letting go of my tight grip on assumption. It’s to hold on to the belief of good things to come as I set aside for retirement, hug my prince of a husband who loves me as is, and look upon my three surviving children who do, indeed, constitute a large healthy family. It’s to continue to have faith in the good things to come, even when it makes me afraid to do so.
After all, the definition of faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see.
And that sounds an awful lot like great expectations to me.
Follow Lady Jennie’s incredible story on her blog, A Lady In France, on Twitter, and on Facebook.
I just adore you, Jennie. Your honesty is so refreshing, your voice so real.
I had no expectations that I'd become friends with someone who lives half a world away but I hope that's exactly what we've become.
You, my lady, are beautiful in every single way.
Your comments never fail to warm my heart and make me smile at the same time. You have a gift. And yes 🙂 you hoped correctly. We are friends.
" …the definition of faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see."
Perfect. As always, my friend. xo
Oh I wish I could take credit pour that little piece of brilliance, but it comes straight from the Bible. 😀
Greta I am so sincerely honored to be here. Thank you (and for that smashing introduction)! 🙂
I think you are right, there is a lot of faith tied up in expectations – and they don't always come in the exact packages we imagine, do they?
And it's taken me an awfully long time to figure it out! But I have to say that, although I've had more than my share of grief, there were many times when things turned out for the better, or … I changed for the better as a result. I just had to let go to some of those pesky assumptions.
OH Jennie, this was beautiful, honest, completely relatable from this heart.
I started crying about 4 sentences in and am now just wiping tears away from my face.
faith, expectation, hope , they are a bundle of optimism that I often pride myself on having (and then feeling the heavy burden of them).
Something about this just touched me in a place that has been quiet and sad much too long, I thank you for the small peek of sunshine that you just gave me.
I can't wait to hug you. xo
Me too Kir! And you are a big softie of a heart, and I mean that in the best possible way. 🙂
What a beautiful and powerful piece. I'm very similar in that I'm afraid to expect certain things because I don't want to be disappointed… But I try to always look around me and see what I do have and that I am very lucky indeed! It's not always easy but I keep trying to think positive and every once in a while expect something grand without fear of disappointment! Salut!
Salut back with a bisou too. 🙂
I have to remind myself that sometimes things work out okay. Sometimes couples grow old together and watch their grandchildren grow. Sometimes entire families are gathered around to say goodbye to a patriarch/matriarch. It doesn't have to end badly, right?
My husband always says that expectations only set you up for disappointment. Thanks for sharing your story.
Hi Julia,
They can, I think. But we miss out on so much possibility too.
I think I will be thinking about this all day. I suppose I do have great expectations and sometimes I am disappointed. Like you, losing our fourth baby was not at all what I had in mind. I am still not fully recovered from that and I don't know if I will be. Like you, I look different than I imagined myself but I am really trying to get that loose chignon look some days because I feel like it is in me and it makes me happy to dress a little more like what I want to look like. I am not being trite. I mention the physical look only because it is big part of our lives when we imagine ourselves or visualize ourselves. I really loved this post.
Aw Brittany, I'm glad for a chance to get to know you better. So we share that particular sorrow, hm? We planted a peach tree in his honour.
And no, not trite at all. It is such a HUGE part of ourselves. I don't think I care very much at all about growing old, but I do care about growing less fit. Ah, and the hair. Well I've given that one up (grin) but there are worse things.
Jennie, I find this post such a wonderful look into your heart. I save seen your avatar in the comments of so many of my friends' blogs for a long time and I always thought it was/is so beautiful. But I never "knew you", you know? This helps me know you and your heart so much better.
I really like where you took the topic, "great expectations" and how you related it to your life and family. Just beautiful. I do love your writing and hope to catch up on your memoir someday soon… xoxo
Hello dear Elaine – I felt so guilty for a long time because I didn't look like my avatar anymore. I had to have a sort of "coming out." 🙂 But the inside is the same.
Thank you for your sweet words.
This makes me even more ready to meet you in person and hug your beautiful self.
We have a date for the Health Minder! I'm so glad. 🙂
Heartbreaking and lovely and incredibly well-written. (I'd kinda expect no less at this point.) Yay to Greta for featuring Jennie!
Thank you Keely! This was such a sweet, encouraging comment.
Jennie, I think you do a wonderful job here of letting everyone know that even though we may realize parts of our dreams, like marrying a French man and living in a beautiful country, some things are still going to be "real," for lack of a better word. Life still has its ups and downs. I love that photo of you and your kids. You're beautiful!
Thank you Leigh Ann! 🙂 I think the first person to have to lose that allusion of what is real and what is dream is/was myself. And it's not easy to do.
[…] same time that my chapter was coming out, a guest post of mine appeared at Greta Funk’s place G*Funk*ified. It was for her series, Great […]
Jennie, I'm so glad to have a chance to know more about your story since I came to your blog more recently. I don't want to just repeat what everyone else has said, but wanted to let you now that I really loved and appreciated this post.
Hi Nina, thanks so much for reading and leaving a comment. 🙂 Hugs!
such a unique take on this subject! Just wanted to repeat that I am a big fan of your blog and your writing!
Hi Jessica, thank you, thank you, thank you!
(I just wanted to say that). 🙂
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that we share the same hang-ups about great expectations – afraid to have them for fear of not getting them – but there it is.
I love your view that we are regarding God as someone who can't give good gifts when we do that. It's right on, and something that I struggle with in almost every situation in life.
Thank you as usual for your introspection and perspective – I am so glad we're friends.
Me too Andrea. 🙂